


Silence

by Marvelgirl1701



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A bit dark at times, Angst, Buckle up boys and girls, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Holy shit that's a lot of characters, Horror, M/M, Mystery, Sad, So much angst, Tags shall update as the story goes along, Violence, Where's Jack?, a bit of blood, this is gonna be a long one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelgirl1701/pseuds/Marvelgirl1701
Summary: What happens when the beloved Youtuber, Jacksepticeye, mysteriously goes missing? Join Mark and a hella bunch of youtubers as they race to find and save Jack before it's too late.





	1. Act 1: Where's Jack?

**Author's Note:**

> Plus side of the hurricane, I now have a whole lot of free time. Buckle up, this is one long chapter! Also, reminder, this is purely fiction. Please respect the lovely girlfriends for our lovely boys. 
> 
> Note: this takes place before Mark's first panel without Jack.

“Bu-bye!”

Mark’s smile falls from a toothy grin to a small upturn of his lips as he stretches his arms upwards, his back popping.

“Damn, that was a long ass recording session…” Mark murmurs to himself, reaching for his phone on his desk to check the time. 9:35 appears above a cute photo of Chica.

Walking out of his recording room, Mark reasons, as his stomach rumbles, that now would be a decent time to eat some dinner. He passes by Tyler watching TV, giving him a friendly wave and makes his way to the kitchen. He scavenges around the refrigerator before taking out a box of pizza, taking a few slices and eating them cold, too lazy to make a proper meal. He sits down at the dinner table, munching on his cold pizza. His mind travels to the coming PAX and he smiles, reminiscing of the previous adventures he had with his friends. He can’t wait to see how this one would go with Bob, Wade, Tyler and Ethan. With a smile, he opens up Twitter to mindlessly scroll through his feed. 

He momentarily checks on the replies to his own tweets and his surprised to find a staggering four thousand replies on his recent posts, more than double his normal amount. Curious, he taps on the photo and is bombarded with thousands of tweets all with a similar question: Is Jack okay? Mark’s eyebrows furrow.  _ Why wouldn’t Jack be okay? _ He goes to youtube on his phone and under his subscription box, taps Jacksepticeye. Oddly, Jack hasn’t uploaded either his videos of the day, causing Mark’s stomach to twist in worry.

Sure, missing an upload for Mark wasn’t anything new, but it was unheard of for Jack. He always sticks to such a tight schedule, never missing a video ever since he started the consistent two per day for almost three years now.  _ There must be some sort of explanation… _ Mark reasons to himself and he goes back to twitter to check on Jack’s page. The result made Mark’s skin crawl uneasily. There is nothing, but silence. No tweet. No post on instagram or tumblr. No explanation. 

Mark began to worry, his forehead creasing and fingers tapping relentless on the table. His teeth gnaw on his lips as he thinks about his course of action. First, he shoots Jack a text. 

 

M:  **Hey man! Sorry to get right to the point, but are you okay? You’re fans are worried about you not uploading, so it’ll probably be good to send a tweet or something to tell them you’re okay :)**

 

Mark waits. Usually, Jack’s response is immediate, especially late at night in Ireland when he isn’t recording. But, after five minutes of nothing, Mark lets out a shaky breath, his worrying intensifying tenfold.

“Hey Tyler?” Mark says shakily, wincing at his voice cracking.

Tyler, immediately picking up at his good friend’s discomfort, pauses the show he’s watching and comes over to plop down in the seat next to Mark. He raises an eyebrow.

“Have you heard from Jack recently?”

Tyler contemplates for a moment, then shakes his head, staying true to his quiet nature. His eyes, however, portray his question and Mark bites his lip again, further irritating the reddened skin as his mind travels once more to his friend in Ireland.

“He hasn’t posted a video yet or explanation and… I dunno, it’s so unlike him.”

Tyler places a reassuring hand on Mark’s shoulder.

“Don’t stress over it, Mark,” Tyler says, his cool calmness coming over Mark, stilling Mark’s nervous heart to a more acceptable pace. “It’s late for you and definitely late for Jack. Check in the morning and I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Mark gives an uneasy smile and abandons his half-eaten pizza, opting instead to go to his room. He sends another text to Jack.

 

M:  **Don’t make me worry, you potato!**

 

Still, nothing. Mark rubs a hand over his face, taking a deep breath to calm his concern.  _ Tyler’s right. Jack’s probably just sleeping. Stop being a worrying little bitch Mark! _ Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he goes through his nightly routine. However, his body remains on autopilot. While taking a quick shower, his mind wanders to Jack. When putting on his sweatpants, he wonders if Jack really is asleep. Brushing his teeth, Mark curls his empty hand in a fist, shoving images of Jack’s broken body out of his head.  _ Note to self, never play horror murder games before going to sleep _ , Mark thinks groggily and as he climbs into bed, he forces himself to think of Jack’s lively blue eyes, adorable laughter and wonderfully bright green hair. 

He sends one more text before setting his phone onto his desk, too lazy to plug it in for the night.

 

M:  **Text me back in the morning Jackieboy. Sleep well**

 

Sleep finds Mark easily after that.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Before dawn’s rays can shine down cheerily from his window, Mark snaps awake. With odd apprehension, he blindly grabs his phone from his desk. He pushes the home button and his heart sinks. No message from Jack. Mark checks the time on his phone (5:15) and does the math in his head as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.  _ It’s about 1 pm over there. Jack would have answered by now _ . Feeling desperate and losing all feelings of drowsiness, he untangles himself from his bed and places his bare feet on the carpeted floor. Not bothering to change from his pajamas, or put on a shirt, he paces out of his room, contemplating on what to do next.  _ It’s not like Jack’s a door away. He’s on the other side of the world! How can I check on him now without having to go through a 12 hour flight… _ He snaps his fingers in realization.

“But there  _ are _ people that are a door away!”

Scrolling through his contacts, he calls Robin, also known as Pixlpit, Jack’s good friend and editor. The Swede answers on the second ring.

“Mark?” the man questions, clearing his throat.

Mark can hear the distant sounds of jazz music and clicking utensils. The American winces as he realizes he just interrupted Robin while he was eating lunch. He blinks, Jack’s smiling face flashing behind his eyelids and his resolve hardens.

“Sorry man, do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, sure!” 

The sounds of music disappear after a moment and Mark lets out a breath, apprehension still tingling at the base of his skull and he begins pace aimlessly around his house.

“Have you, uh, heard from Jack?”

Robin pauses and the air around Mark grows cold.

“Um, actually…” Robin sounds hesitant and Mark waits on the other man’s words, holding his breath. “I haven’t really talked to him for over a week now.”

“ _ What? _ ”

Robin pauses again, and Mark can feel the discomfort over the other end. 

“He hasn’t sent me any new videos to edit,” Robin explains, pausing between sentences to think about his words. “I asked him about it a week or so ago and he said something about how I deserve a break. He was adamant that I would keep on getting my paycheck, despite me not editing. I was worried about him, but he said not to worry about it, that he wanted to edit for himself for a bit.”

Robin takes a long breath, in and out.

“I haven’t really been checking up on his channel; I’ve been busy taking a mini vacation of sorts. Is there something wrong with his videos?”

“Not exactly,” Mark grumbles. “He didn’t upload yesterday.”

Robin lets out a sigh in relief.

“Oh, that’s it? I thought something more serious happened.”

“That is pretty serious!” Mark replies defensively. “You know how Jack is. And he hasn’t posted anything about it on social media or answer any of my texts.”

“Alright, Mark,” Robin says softly. “After lunch, I’ll see if I can make the flight over to Ireland. I would ask Signe too. She was visiting England recently and could probably drive over. Or Felix.”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, forgetting how far Robin actually was.

“It’s okay man, you stay there. I’ll keep you posted about Felix and Wiishu.”

Drumming his fingers, a last minute idea pops in his head.

“Actually, could you go through his videos and figure out which was the last you edited for him?”

Such a detail seems almost insignificant, but Mark wants to leave no stone unturned.

“Sure, sure,” Robin replies. “I’ll text you what I find.”

“Thanks, Robin.”

“No problem. I hope everything will be okay.”

Mark hangs up and sighs to himself.

“You and me both.”

Stopping his pacing around the kitchen, he pulls a few frozen waffles out of the fridge and munches on them. He barely tastes the food, his attention zoned in on his phone as he calls up Felix. It goes directly to his voicemail. Mark curses and shoots him a text.

 

M: **Call me when you have a chance**

 

Next, he calls Signe, a little nervous for the interaction. While Jack and Wiishu had split on amicable terms and remained close friends, Mark hadn’t interacted with her since the breakup. He’s only seen her through watching her youtube videos time to time.

“Hello?” Wiishu answers after a few rings, confusion evident in her voice.

“Hey, Signe. It’s me, Mark.”

“Oh!” Her voice lifts in recognition. “How are you doing Mark? I haven’t spoken to you in ages.”

Her sweet tone sets his nerves at ease.  _ She’s always been so nice. Such a shame Jack and her found their relationship to be more of a friendship than partnership. _

“I’m doing good. Just recording videos as always. What have you been up to?”

Signe hums to herself and Mark can imagine the girl placing the phone between her shoulder and ear as she chops what sounds like some vegetables.

“Oh, you know. The usual. I was supposed to meet up with Sean over the weekend as we normally do, but he didn’t answer my texts. So, I decided to make some lunch for myself instead. I’m trying to learn how to cook!”

The air sucks out of Mark’s lungs, the whole situation making him feel light-headed.  _ No videos uploaded, no texts sent and now, no weekend meeting with Signe all without explanation. There’s something very wrong. _ For a moment, all Mark can hear is the loud crinkling of static as the silence of his house seems to grow deafening. He barely hears his name being called and after another agonizing moment, it pulls him back down to reality.

“Hey, Mark? Mark? You still there?”

“Yeah…” Mark clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’m sorry Signe. I didn’t just call to catch up.”

Signe laughs, but without malice.

“I thought so! What’s up?”

“Could you, uh, check up on Jack?” Mark feels his voice tremble slightly and he silently curses at his weakness.

_ Stop being a baby Mark! Don’t over exaggerate the situation _ … He runs his free hand through his unruly dark hair. 

“Why?” Signe picks up on Mark’s worry and it seeps into her voice. “What’s wrong?”

Mark laughs humorously.

“It’s probably nothing,” he says, trying to reassure the woman and to not bring her into his own hysteria. “He’s just not answering my texts and didn’t upload at all yesterday. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay,” Signe says, taking a deep breath. “I understand. This behavior is odd for Sean. I will gladly check up on him. I’m about…” 

She pauses for a moment, mentally calculating the time.

“...an hour drive away from his house. I’ll call you once I arrive.”

Mark lets out a small sigh in relief.

“Thank you, Signe. I hope all this is nothing.”

“Me too, Mark,” Wiishu murmurs ominously. “Me too.”

She hangs up and Mark’s arms shake a little, curled inwards around his body. His back aches. He blinks in confusion, looking around his surroundings and finds himself tucked in his bathtub without even realizing it. Despite the situation, he laughs a bit. Gingerly getting out, he nearly steps on the ball of fluff fast asleep on the bathroom mat. Chica lifts her head sleepily, her warm brown eyes meeting her owner’s. Mark smiles, sitting on the edge of the tub and giving his beloved pet a few scratches behind the ear. She lets out a content noise and her head falls back down as she falls back asleep once more. Mark sighs and jumps a little when the phone he placed in yoga pant’s pocket vibrates.

 

R:  **The last thing I edited for Jack was posted nearly two weeks ago. And I would check out his recent videos, starting after two weeks ago.**

 

After splashing some cold water on his face and quickly brushing his teeth, Mark meanders over to his recording studio, plops down on his chair and pulls up Jack’s channel. He scrolls down and clicks in a new tab the video from two weeks ago. Mark is startled by Jack’s appearance. He wears a dark turtleneck shirt that seems to bring out his pale skin. Even behind his unruly light green hair and glasses, Mark can see the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. Still, his blue eyes shine as he yells out his intro and gets right into the game he is playing, some indie horror game. Mark gets lost in the Irishman’s cheerful voice, letting it ease his fears.  _ I’ve missed you Jack.  _ Before he knows it, the ten minute video is over. Slightly disappointed, he goes to the next video and frowns.

It’s the same thing. Dark turtleneck, glasses and dark circles, Indie game. Next video, the same outfit. Mark’s frown deepens as he find the following five videos all seem to feature the turtleneck and a more exhausted Jack. His voice cracks more and circles become more apparent. What stays the same, however are his bright blue eyes, that shine with a lively determination, but for what?  _ Was this recorded all in one day? Or did Jack just not change? _ Mark goes to the next video.

A new outfit and a new Jack appears. He shouts with his normal cheeriness, wearing a Rick and Morty tee. Jack talks animatedly about whatever game he was playing and Mark smiles. This was the Jack he knew and loved. Yet, after looking a little closer at Jack’s appearance, Mark’s heart sinks. Jack’s hair was brighter, a more neon hue than the previous videos and Mark knows he hasn’t dyed it lately. This video was from the past.

The next videos are similar, featuring a lively Jack, but with slightly different shades of green hair. Some videos seem as if they weren’t intended to be aired- with Jack making a few comments to Robin in the video how to cut parts out- but were anyway, as if Jack was running out of things to put up and didn’t edit certain parts out. Then, comes the video three days ago that makes Mark’s skin crawl.

This video features not a Jack from the past, but one more current with the videos with the turtleneck. His eyes look dull, dark circles very prominent and skin pallid. He wears another long-sleeved turtleneck, a bright-red cheerful color that contrasts greatly with Jack’s appearance. His hair stands a dull yellowish green, greasy across his face, but he pays it no mind, letting it fall flat. He still shouts with conviction, but he looks so very tired, constantly sipping on not only one, but three cups of coffee throughout the video. He yells and he forces energy into his video, but it’s almost as if it was taking everything out of him to do it. Mark scrolls through the comments as he lets the video play, feeling grim. The comments all seem to revolve around concern for Jack and for him to sleep sometime. Jack answered one of the comments with his usual catchphrase, sleep is for the weak!

The following videos are similar, with Jack in some sort of turtleneck and tired eyes, trying so hard to keep up with his usual energy. Then, the videos just stop. Mark lets out a shuddering breath.  _ Why didn’t I notice? This has been happening for more than a week and I didn’t even know.  _ Guilt overwhelms him.  _ Some friend I am… _ Sniffing, Mark stops himself from doing anything stupid, like crying and plays Jack’s most recent upload from two days ago again, searching for any clues he may have missed. He decides to shoot Jack another text.

 

M: **I’m sorry I’ve been busy Jack. Please just answer me. I miss you**

 

A knock on his door causes Mark to jerk upwards.  _ How long have I been in this room?  _ Mark glances at his clock, groaning as he find it close to noon.  _ There goes my day. _

“Come in.”

Tyler walks in, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He takes in Mark’s tired, slightly red eyes, unruly hair and state of undress without comment, eyes trailing over to Mark’s computer where Jack’s recent upload continues to play. The sunlight seeping from the opened door makes Mark wince. Ethan follows soon after and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I was gonna ask if wanted me to edit anything today, but, uh, if you’re busy...” Ethan trails off.

For a moment, Jack’s tired voice fills the silence, screaming something about Steve. Mark lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his face then through his hair.

“No videos today, bud. We have more important things to worry about,” he pauses. “It’s about Jack.”

Just as he had spoken, Mark’s phone vibrates. Mark glances down at it.  _ Signe _ .

He gestures for his friends to come over as he puts her on speaker.

“Hey, Wiishu.”

“Put me on facetime. There’s something you need to see Mark.”

Tyler and Ethan share a glance, confused at the situation, while Mark takes a shaky breath, pushing FaceTime.

“Tyler and Ethan are here with me too. I didn’t tell them about Jack yet.”

Signe’s face fills Mark’s phone, and her face looks grim, her mouth in a hard line.

“I’ll tell them about Jack. He’s missing.”

Mark stops breathing while the two behind him gasp. 

“What?” Ethan questions.

Signe shifts the camera from her face to Jack’s house. It’s in a state of chaos. Empty cups cover every available surface, stained dark with remnants of coffee. A lamp is toppled over on the floor and some broken glass cover the floor next to what once was a mirror. Wiishu’s shoes crunch over the glass as she opens the door to Jack’s recording studio. His camera lies on the floor, thankfully unbroken, next to a bent tripod. All of the objects that were once on his shelves lie scattered across the floor. A shattered phone lies near his upturned chair.  _ No wonder he wasn’t answering my texts.  _ The camera flips back to Signe.

“I checked all the other rooms and he’s nowhere to been seen,” her voice shakes. “I can’t find him anywhere and with the broken state of his house…”

“Do you think he was robbed? Kidnapped?” Ethan asks desperately, face pale.

“I don’t know. Whoever did this was obviously looking for something,” Wiishu motions a hand towards the empty shelves. “I don’t know if I want to be here anymore, guys… I’m sorry!”

The poor girl sounds extremely distraught, her brown hair falling out of her bun contributing to her frazzled appearance. 

Mark speaks for the first time in a while.

“You don’t have to, Signe. You’ve done enough already,” Mark looks straight into his phone’s camera, trying to meet Wiishu’s gaze from across the world. “Thank you,” he says as genuinely as he can.

Signe just nods.

“I still care about him, Mark. I still love him,” she murmurs as she begins her trek out of the house. “He’s still my friend and…”

She trails off, going pale. 

“Signe, what’s wrong?”

She starts to shake as hot tears appear in her eyes, clumping with her mascara and falling black down her cheeks. She lets out a small squeak and with shaky hands, turns the camera from her face to the wall.

 

**_DID YOU MISS ME?_ **

 

The words are scrawled across the living room wall, adjacent to the door leading out of the house. The words almost look as if they are melting. Mark feels the urge to puke when it registers why the words shine a dark red; they were written in blood, presumably, Jack’s blood. 

“Get out of there, Signe,” Tyler says shakily and the girl complies, running out, her phone clamped in her hand until she reaches her car. She begins to sob and Mark can’t help the tears that fall down his own cheeks.  _ Jack, I’m sorry… _

They sit in silence for a few moments, only sounds Ethan and Signe sniffling and Mark clears his throat. 

“What now?” 

A notification pops up, showing Felix is calling Mark back. Mark declines.

“Tyler call Felix and Robin.”

They both answer.

“Hey bro?”

“Any news?”

“What news? What’s going on?” Felix questions.

“Jack’s missing,” Mark begins, his voice strained, trying to hold back more tears.

“Oh no…” Robin murmurs.

“What the fuck?”

Wiishu whimpers. Mark talks for her.

“Signe just went to his house and it looks like a fucking war zone in there. And on the wall…” Mark swallows, eyes beginning to burn with tears. “There was a message in blood on the wall.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Felix yells and the group hears something crash to the floor. “Who the fuck would do this?”

“Is he…” Robin pauses painfully. “Still a-alive…?”

Everyone pauses for a moment, the idea sitting stagnant in the air.

“Yes,” Signe states, breaking the tense silence. “I didn’t see his body anywhere and there seemed to be signs of struggle.”

Mark watches as she slowly gets out of her car.

“Signe,” Mark warns. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I owe him at least that.”

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Felix asks exasperated and fearful. 

“I’m going back into Jack’s house,” Wiishu says, eerily calm.

She goes through the front door, her phone’s camera shaking slightly as her hands tremor.

“Screenshot the message, Mark.”

When the ghastly words come into view, Mark obeys. He takes a moment to make a group chat with all those present, sending them the message, before going back to Signe. The Swedes on the phone audibly gasp as soon as they receive it.

“Look,” she murmurs, pointing a pale finger to the door frame.

A bloody handprint is across it. Mark can imagine an injured Jack leaning against the wall before going out of his house. Signe walks out of the house again.

“Sean can’t drive; he doesn’t have a license,” Wiishu states. “Either someone took him or he got a cab while he was fucking bleeding.”

“We need to call the police!” Ethan says frantically. 

“No,” Felix demands.

“What do you mean no?” Robin argues over the phone. “Jack’s been kidnapped!”

“Guys, Jack is a fucking celebrity. If we tell the police, it’ll cause a world panic and whoever did this will know that we are on to them.”

Mark feels a surge of anger boil through his veins and his dark eyes turn stormy.

“So?” Ethan squeaks indignantly, face turning red. “Jack could be dying as we speak! We can’t do nothing!”

“We won’t be doing  _ nothing _ !” Felix fires back. “We can investigate this on our own. I’ll drive over with Marzia from Britain and check out Jack’s house.”

Signe sighs, taking her phone off facetime into a normal call as she begins to drive away from the house.

“I’ll stay in a hotel nearby and you guys can meet with me. I’ll call up Malcolm and the rest of Jack’s family. They deserve to know.”

“I still think you guys should go to the police!” Ethan argues, face scrunching up in annoyance. “We have to make sure he’s safe!”

Felix groans.

“Jack will be safe as long as we are quiet about it!”

“Enough!” Mark rumbles.

Everyone quiets down.

“Listen, we all care about Jack. We all want him to be safe. I know I do,” Mark’s deep voice breaks a little, but he keeps on going. “So, let’s do everything in our power to find him. Felix, we aren’t professionals in this investigative shit, but I understand where you are coming from. Tell his family. Let them decide whether or not to go to the police, but explain your case to them Felix. We have fans all over the world. Why can’t we ask them to help us find him?”

“Do you want to start a chaos all over the world, Mark?”  
“No, I just want to find my best friend.”

Felix let’s out a tortured sigh.

“Me too, bro. Me too.”

“I’ll call Malcolm,” Wiishu says softly. “He’s Jack’s brother. Whatever he says, we do. I’ll tell you guys what his verdict is.”  

She hangs up, leaving the boys. 

“I’m scared,” Ethan whispers quietly. “What if it’s too late.”

“Don’t say that,” Tyler murmurs, giving the smaller boy a hug. 

“I’ll book a flight to Ireland tonight,” Robin says.

He sounds sad. Hell, they all are. How else are they supposed to act when finding their good friend is missing? Mark grunts, acknowledging the Swede. Robin leaves next. 

“I just want to know why,” Felix growls bitterly. “Why would someone do that to Jack of all people? He doesn’t deserve this shit. He deserves so much better, not to be…”

Felix trails off, choking on tears.

“I know,” Mark murmurs sadly. “I know. Jack deserves the world.”


	2. Act 2: The Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you so much for your kind comments, dear readers. It really makes my day! Anyways, by the time I was writing the story, the vote was leaning more towards calling the cops, but there was still interest in the gang doing their own private investigation. And a third option arose for a private investigator. Soooo, this chapter is a big ol' conglomeration of all of the above haha
> 
> Enjoy!

_~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~_

_There is nothing but darkness. Some scratchy cloth roughly covers his eyes and another cloth covers his mouth and nose, a sickly flowery smell overwhelming his system. His strong gag reflexes cause him to cough and quickly swallow the bile that threatens to spew from his mouth. He doesn’t dare try and speak again. The flower scent tastes just as bad as the retched smell and makes his vision go even more spotty. He just wants to go home. Jack just wants to go home._

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 

Mark paces around the house for what feels like the twentieth time today. It’s been one day, one day since Jack has gone missing. Mark is completely restless, filled with nervous energy. Yet, he finds himself unable to record any videos for the day. Every time he sits down at his computer, he sees Jack’s newest video on a tab he can’t bring himself to close out of and his body runs cold, his cursed thoughts conjuring up horrid imagery of Jack, bound and beaten. But, he can’t just sit down and do nothing either.

So, he reverts back to pacing aimlessly around. Sometimes Chica joins him for a stroll or Tyler will give him a comforting pat on the shoulder or Ethan will walk with him, silent and understanding. It is then, Mark realizes, that waiting, the suspense of the unknown, is the worst fucking feeling in the world. Even worse than being completely and utterly alone - _stupid Ethan and Tyler going to the shop without me. Fuck them!_ Despite his harsh thoughts, a small voice in the back of his head whispers that distractions may be how his friends cope with… Jack. And, it’s not like Mark would leave the confines of his home anyways. He relies too heavily on the next update on his beloved friend. _Speaking of which…_ Mark wonders to himself.

 _Bzzt_. Mark leaps at his phone on the table, clutching it like a lifeline. A small part of him still hopes it’s a text from Jack, despite blatantly seeing that his phone was shattered in his home in Ireland. Mark checks the name. It’s a text from Wiishu.

 

W: **I was finally able to get a hold of them (I wanted to go in person instead of just calling) Jack’s family is very worried, of course. Felix talked to them, but they are still calling the police. Don’t know if Jack’s still in the country or if he is unharmed**

 

Mark’s stomach manages to knot itself further, and he rubs a tired hand over his face. _God, Jack, I hope you are safe._ His phone buzzes again, an instant reply from Felix in their group chat simply labeled **Jack**.

 

F: **fuck that i convinced one of my friends who’s a private investigator to help the police so we can get the inside scoop**

E: **niceeee**

 

Mark thinks for a moment, imagining himself just standing around while the police do all the work. He can’t sit around and do nothing. Not anymore.

 

M: **And that won’t stop us from investigating ourselves**

F: **oh hell ya, lets go all scooby gang on this shit**

 

Despite himself, Mark snorts, quickly renaming the chat to **Jack’s Scooby Gang** . However, his small moment of mirth dissipates quickly. He stands quietly for a moment, staring blankly at his phone, waiting for the next text. His mind wanders. _Well, now what?_ A feeling of uselessness overwhelms him and he let’s out a huff of frustration. _Everyone is making the trip to Europe, but I can’t with Bob and Wade flying over for PAX._ Mark groans.

“I forgot about PAX…” he murmurs to himself, holding his head in his hands.

The panel and signing is in a week. A panel that Jack _won’t_ be a part of. Mark’s stomach twists. _It would suck to let my fans down, but…_ Mark stares down at his phone that buzzes aimlessly with whatever scooby doo memes Felix is sending. Mark’s eyes flit up to the chat’s title, eyes blurring a bit as he stares at Jack’s name. _I won’t make the same mistake again. Jack is more important._

He begins typing out that dreaded tweet.

 

 **Markiplier** @markiplier _now_

I’m sorry.

 

All Mark can see his Jack’s smiling face.

 

 **Markiplier** @markiplier _now_

Replying to @markiplier

I’ve let you down.

 

_Please forgive me Jack._

 

 **Markiplier** @markiplier _now_

Replying to @markiplier _now_

No videos today.

 

The responses are immediate, wondering if the panel will be affected and of Mark’s own well being. Mark grimaces, fingers shaking a little over his phone.

 

Replying to @septiclover _now_

I don’t know about the panel anymore. I’ll keep everyone posted.

 

Replying to @marklesparkle69 _now_

There has been a family emergency. I just can’t make videos right now, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

 

Mark’s hands shake as he sends the last tweet, turning off his notifications right afterwards, not wanting to see anymore replies. He isn’t lying. Jack was- _no, dammit Mark, don’t think like that_ \- is family. He’s one of Mark’s good friends, who always makes him laugh, makes him smile. _Jack_ , Mark thinks to himself, _truly is the Green Beacon, shining hope upon his followers and making them feel important and happy_ . _He made_ me _happy and now he’s…_ A crushing feeling of longing and loneliness engulfs his very being, making Mark wish to curl up in a ball and just cry the day and night away. Before he sinks too deep in depression, thankfully, his phone goes off again in his hands. He checks to find an unknown number.

 

?: **Hello, Mr. Mark Fischbach. I am Private Investigator Vianna O’Reilly. Felix told me to give direct updates to you regarding the missing person’s case of Mr. Seán McLoughlin. Call me when you have a chance.**

 

Mark quickly saves the new contact and calls the mystery person immediately. She answers on the first ring.

“Hello, Private Investigator O’Reilly speaking, how may I help you?” A woman with a slight british accent answers.

“This is Mark,” he says quickly, wanting to get directly to the news about Jack. “What did you find?”

“Nice to hear from you, Mr. Fischbach,” the voice seems friendly enough.

The phone is muffled for a moment, as if the detective was keeping Mark from hearing the other conversations on the other end.

Mark frowns.

“Sorry, I’m getting new reports about the case as we speak,” Vianna says after a moment. “You are a close friend to Mr. McLoughlin?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Mark can imagine the woman, in an office with similar likeness to Batman’s police correspondent Jim Gordon, propping her legs on the table, shift the phone from one ear to the other. She reads carefully off of a report. “We’ve been analyzing his house, looking for signs of another’s presence who may have kidnapped him. So, we analyzed the blood on the door and on the wall in the eerie message.”

Mark gulps, waiting on this mystery woman’s every word.

“Interestingly, it isn’t Jack’s blood. At least, the message isn’t.”

Mark lets out a sigh of relief, then furrows his eyebrows, puzzled. The private investigator answers his question before he can even ask it.

“We think it’s the kidnapper’s blood, someone who is trying to inspire fear in whoever found the message. We are currently analyzing the blood now to see if it matches the DNA of anyone in the Great Britain area, but as of current results, we have found no matches.”

Mark finally finds his voice once more.

“How is that possible? How can this person _not_ be in your data banks?”

Mark can _hear_ and visualize the woman shrug.

“The culprit may not be a part of this country. We don’t have the records for everyone in the world, just Britain.”

 _That makes sense…_ Mark thinks, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“Anyways, I have a quick question for you, Mark.”

Mark first nods, then realize she cannot see it, so he makes an affirmative grunt.

“Do the words, ‘Did you miss me?’ have any meaning to you?”

Mark’s blood runs cold, the image of those cursed words of blood on the wall flashing in his mind. A foggy memory, of some halloween special Jack had done in the past comes to mind, but for some reason, Mark remains silent. _Don’t want to peg Jack as insane or anything_ , Mark thinks to himself, biting his lip. The woman continues, unaware of Mark’s unease.

“It’s just such an odd message to write. Why would the culprit use their own blood to paint such a message? It seems to be almost a rookie mistake. After all, if we have their DNA, we can find them!”

“Thank you, uh…” Mark struggles for her name.

She laughs without malice.

“Just call me Reilly,” the woman says. “Everyone in the office does it anyways.”

“Thank you, Reilly,” Mark continues. “Anything else I need to know about Jack?”

“We’ll keep you posted, Mr. Fischbach.”

Mark blinks, pulling back his phone from his ear to find that she had hung up. Blinking on his screen are a few messages from Robin.

 

R: **Mark, I’ve just realized something.**

R: **Call me, immediately.**

 

And then, to the group chat.

 

R: **Add me on skype at Pixpit. I’m going to do something soon that’s going to need an audience.**

 

To say that Mark is confused is an understatement. He immediately calls Robin.

“Antisepticeye,” Robin says as soon as he picks up.

 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

_The cloth still covers his eyes, nose and mouth, but even the sickening flower scent cannot cover up the overwhelming metallic smell of blood. Jack can’t keep the bile from rising out of his throat and his eyes burn as he gags, nothing coming up due to his empty stomach. His hands are bound and they shake, making the skin of his wrists raw. His throat burns, fresh blood slowly dripping down his neck, painting his pale skin red._

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 

Mark finds himself even more confused.

“You think Jack has turned into Antisepticeye?” Mark says, grasping for some sort of inkling of what Robin is referring to.

Robin snorts.

“What? No, that idea is…” Robin pauses, thinking of the right word. “...preposterous. That is just a character, an ego, Jack portrayed.”

“Okay?” Mark says.

_Where is this going?_

“But, the police don’t know that,” Robin continues. “Those videos could be used as evidence, if they think about looking through them. Evidence that could convict Jack.”

“The blood on the wall wasn’t his, Robin,” Mark interjects, not sure if he is liking what the animator is leading to. The other man pauses, processing the new information Mark told him. “How could one bloody message he didn’t even write convict Jack?”

Though Mark speaks indignantly, his mind reels with Robin’s implications. _I did just omit evidence to Reilly regarding Anti… What if this_ could _be used against him?_

“I want to protect him, okay?” Frustration is evident in Robin’s voice. “It’s already bad enough that he’s missing. I can’t imagine what would happen if they find him and the police just _fuck up_ his life by marking him insane…”

Robin trails off, the frustration dwindling into tiredness. Mark can relate to that. It barely been a day since Jack’s mysterious disappearance, but Mark already wishes the whole ordeal was over with. He just wants Jack back and Mark knows Robin wants that too. Mark pauses for a moment, thinking.

“I know, Robin,” Mark says after a while, trying to console the Swede. “But, we can’t do anything about it. They already found the message. It’s only the matter of time.”

“In that regard, you are wrong, Mark,” Robin’s voice suddenly turns cold. “Catch me on Skype.”

Robin hangs up and Mark feels uneasy, Robin’s words twisting away in the empty air. _Something is not right_. It’s not until a few hours later that Mark finds out exactly what Robin is planning.

 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 

Mark returns from a quick shower, his hair still wet and a towel hanging low on his hips. He lifts his hands up to the sky, stretching. He feels calm, the warm water melting the tension from his body. He leisurely changes into some comfortable clothing, forgetting for a moment of all his troubles. Tyler and Ethan had returned from the store, bringing a variety of odd props (for some challenges when Bob and Wade come over) and some groceries. The two left, once more, to pick up Mark’s childhood friends from the airport. Mark is content. However, the feeling immediately morphs into panic as he hears his phone vibrates continuously with a string of messages. He nearly trips over his bare feet to reach towards it, ripping the phone from the charger and unlocking it.

 

W: **Check your skype guys, NOW**

T: **Can’t**

E: **Yeah, we aren’t at home**

F: **Whats up??**

F: **oh shit O SHIT**

F: **TAKE ME OFF MUTE DAMMIT**

E: **What?? Whats happening?**

W: **Robin, don’t you fucking dare!!!**

W: **RIBINN IS BEINGG A FCCKING IDIOT!!**

E: **oh god**

T: **those spelling errors are killing me Signe**

W: **SORRY IM JUST FREAKING OUT CAUSE ROBIN IS BREAKING IN**

F: **WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THATS A GOOD DECISION**

 

Mark all but runs to his computer, scaring a drowsy Chica who lies next to his bed, quickly booting up skype and adding himself to the skype group Robin supposedly made. He joins the call and is immediately bombarded with yells as the videos load.

“Robin, I swear to God!” Wiishu’s normally kind voice is tight with anger, loud and rough much like her past boyfriend’s.

“BRO!” Felix yells.

“What?” Mark says, fear rendering his body cold.”What the fuck is going on?”

The video loads. Mark slaps a hand over his mouth. What Mark assumes to be Robin’s hands hold tightly onto a window sill, trying to bring his body upwards and through the opened window. The small figure with grass growing as hair in the corner gives Mark a good idea of whose house Robin seemed to be breaking into: Jack’s.

“What is he doing?” Mark whispers.

Signe scoffs, a sassier side of her personality revealing itself.

“Don’t bother whispering; he put us all on mute.”

“He’s breaking into Jack’s house like an idiot, that’s what!” Felix replies. “Got his stupid phone strapped to his head and climbing into the window while the police are gone for a break.”

Felix puts two hands on his face, pulling them across his skin before sighing loudly in his hands.

“This is not what I meant by being a scooby gang…” he says, voice muffled.

Mark starts to put the pieces together.

“I called him and he was talking about wanting to make sure the investigators won’t see the Antisepticeye videos… What if he was-”

“Oh god, is he going to try and delete the videos from _Jack’s_ computer?” Wiishu interrupts, green eyes widening in shock. “If the police find out about it, Robin would be arrested for getting rid of evidence!”

“What an idiot,” Felix groans from his hands.

Mark looks down at his bare feet planted firmly on the floor of his recording room.

“He’s desperate and worried for his friend… It’s probably making him act irrational.”

Mark feels his heart twist.

The three of them jump as Robin lands in a crash through the window, his phone falling flat on the floor, giving them a view of the ceiling. Robin comes into frame, dark circles exemplified, but he grins, his eyes lively.

“I’m in,” he says and picks up the phone in his hand, sauntering over to the computer.

“Go back while you still can, dumbass!” Signe yells, despite knowing it was pointless.

Robin, still having his friends on mute, ignores her and shakes the mouse to awaken the computer from its slumber. He freezes when something unexpected appears. A receipt screen shines brightly in white.

 

THANK YOU, **SEAN MCLOUGHLIN** FOR YOUR PURCHASE FROM JET BLUE AIRLINES.

_We have sent a confirmation email for your ONE ticket to PHOENIX, ARIZONA._

Robin scrolls down to see when the flight was scheduled. The phone shakes as the letters come into view. Two days ago at 5 am in the morning, the same exact day Jack didn’t upload.

“HEY!” Someone yells and everyone startles.

Robin turns with his phone to find an unamused police officer, arms crossed over his chest.

“Shit,” Robin murmurs and he ends the skype call, leaving Felix, Mark and Signe to process the new information.

“Jack isn’t in Ireland anymore,” Mark murmurs.

 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

_How long has Jack been in the darkness, in a state of fuzzy consciousness? He can’t tell if he is awake or asleep anymore, the hours, maybe days blending together. He cannot get a solid grip on reality. Sometimes, he hears voices, soft whispers that may as well be the wind. Sometimes, he feels someone touching him, readjusting his bindings the hold his hands together, uncomfortably jammed between his back and the rough fabric of some kind of seat. Jack feels motion of the vehicle he is in. A car? A bus? A plane? Everything seems to blur together, the line between imagination and reality non existent. He doesn’t try to struggle, not anymore. Is he alone? Is there someone else there? Did he bind himself? Cut his own neck? And most importantly, why?_

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 

“Unless it’s some sort of trick!” Felix jumps in, gesturing wildly. “Maybe, that’s what the kidnapper wants you to think and Jack’s hidden away somewhere else.”

“What if Jack just bought the ticket and then was ambushed after that?” Wiishu says, her voice unsure.

“But why would he want to go there in the first place? What’s even in Phoenix, Arizona?” Felix questions.

“It doesn’t matter; the police need to know about this,” Mark murmurs.

“Not the police, but Reilly. I’m texting her to check out Jack’s computer and get Robin out of whatever trouble he’s about to be in.”

An odd silence overcomes the group, the unasked question _now what_ hanging over their heads. Signe plays with the cactus pin on her shirt while Felix furiously texts a storm to the Private Investigator. Mark stares blankly at his keyboard. _Jack would fill the silence if he were here…_ Mark wonders why he likes to torture himself with such thoughts.

“Well, if he is in America,” Felix says after the moment of silence has passed. “You keep an eye out Mark. Jack may be around your area.”

Mark nods, a newfound purpose burning within him. _I can find him_.

“You guys can continue the investigation at Jack’s house, see if we can find anything else,” Mark says and Felix and Wiishu nod in agreement. “Make sure his family is okay, Signe.”

“I will,” she says, conviction shining in her eyes.

They say their goodbyes and depart. Mark shoots a quick text to Robin.

 

M: **Hope you're okay man**

 

Then, Mark hovers over Jack’s number. Though he knows Jack’s phone is broken (the phone had laid smashed on the floor in Jack’s room), a part of him just wants to text him.

 

M: **I hope you are okay**

M: **I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you**

M: **I’m sorry I never noticed**

M: **I’m sorry Jack**

M: **Please be okay**

M: **Please**

M: **oh god please**

 

Hot tears begins to fall down his cheeks. Mark starts to sob. Didn’t cry, with a few little tears streaking down his face. No, _sobs_ wracked his body, his eyes go puffy as snot begins to drip from his nose.  His body shakes, knees quake. He curls up into his chair near his computer, trying to make himself as small as possible. The crushing feeling of loss overwhelms him. _Jack… Oh Seán..._ It’s an ugly scene, but necessary. After a few minutes, it begins to subside. Mark blows his nose and wipes his bloodshot eyes. The guilt and sadness still eats away at him, but he feels a little lighter, some of the burden taken away by finally letting out the emotions that have been boiling inside. _It’s only been a day, yet so much shit has happened._ Mark sighs. _Jack will be okay,_ he thinks, trying to convince himself. _He has to be._ Mark, not bothering to eat anything, crawls into his bed fully clothed, uncaring that it was still early. _Maybe some tumblr memes could make me feel better_.

Curled up in his comforter, he props up a pillow to lay on and scrolls through his feed, going straight to the Markiplier tag. His heart warms at the _feel better soon_ and _we love you Mark!_ messages that cover the page, probably in response to his tweet. He reads through few of the long messages of encouragement, giving them a like or repost and smiles at the art he finds. Until, he scrolls upon an image of Jack and him. It isn’t the best for him to come across -- it depicts the two male figures, one with green hair and the other with red, heavily making out -- but still is enough to fuel his worry for the Irishman once more. Realizing it may be a bad idea, Mark still goes to the Jacksepticeye tag. Frantic posts of _where is Jack?_ and more words of encouragement to Jack, wishing him the best, calms Mark’s frantically beating heart. His heart swells at the cute fanart of the boisterous man, some startlingly realistic and others crudely drawn and all other styles in between, but all made from love for Jack, for Seán. Mark scrolls down until something catches his eye.

Time stops.

Mark quickly taps on the image to make it larger. There staring back at him are the words **_DID YOU MISS ME?_ ** bleeding, on a wall, Jack’s wall, but _from a different angle_ than what Wiishu had originally taken. Mark checks Signe’s image again and again with this one on Tumblr, but they are clearly different. Wiishu’s photo is shaky, taken straight ahead of the message. The one from Tumblr is taken in a more “artsy” manner from the side and with a few filters over it. _How?_ That one thought echoes in Mark’s mind. The photo had no caption, but had gotten a few retweets with speculation of the newest Anti theory and many likes for the _realistic_ effects. Mark feels the bile rise up to his throat. _Who did this? The only other person there was...the police!_ Mark immediately calls up Reilly, abandoning his soft bed sheets to pace around the room.

“Hello, Private Investigator-”

“Did you take photos of the message on the wall?” Mark interjects.

“Oh, Mr. Fischbach,” Reilly says, startled. “Um, yes, of course we have. Why?”

“I need to see the pictures.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fischbach, but I cannot disclose this evidence to you-”

“I don’t give a damn!” Mark lets his frustration build, not even bothering to keep it from his voice. Mark ignores the woman’s sharp intake of breath. “Felix _hired_ you and told you to give _me_ any information on the case. And, I found a photo of that bloody message on Tumblr, posted for all the world to see!”

“Oh.”

There is a pause. Mark breathes heavily from his nose, not at all regretful and all aware that he’s being an ass. Reilly sighs from the other end.

“First, I have to bail out one of your friends who broke into a crime scene for who knows what and now this…” Reilly mutters to herself, and Mark feels his anger surge, the fiery feelings combined with worry for Jack clouding his judgement.

“Send me those fucking photos you took, or Felix will find out about this and take matters into his own hands.”

“Mark, are you trying to blackmail me?”

Mark _growls_ , his patience wearing thin.

“I did this as a _favor_ for Felix, _Mark_ ,” Reilly continues. “I’ll help you, but only this one time. I’m only doing this because I know how you feel right now, Mark, depressed and mourning over a missing friend.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Mark fires back, hand clutching his phone tightening. “You have no idea how I am feeling right now. _Depressed and mourning_ doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about _Jack’s_ …” Mark feels tears beginning to swell up in his already swollen eyes and he trails off, his voice raw and broken.

“Send me the picture you found on tumblr,” Reilly’s voice is quiet and sympathetic.

Mark sniffs and sends the screenshot over to her. There is a longer pause, then a sigh.

“Mark,” she says carefully, as if afraid that he could break if she didn’t say it lightly. “We didn’t take this photo.”

Mark can’t breathe.

“Someone else did.”

_The kidnapper._

Mark hangs up and goes back to the account who posted the image: Anti4life216. Their profile picture is of Antisepticeye, some screenshot of a video the persona appeared in and their page is a vivid combination of neon green and black. They reposted a bunch of Anti theories and fanfiction and art throughout their page. _The message_ is the last thing they posted, _three days ago_ . Mark feels sick. _How long has Jack really missing? How many days has he just scheduled videos to autopost?_ And the most prevalent thought: _How could I have not noticed?_

 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

_The cloth is finally pulled from his eyes. Jack involuntarily jerks at the leather that binds his hands behind him, trying to cover his eyes from the bright lights and he takes a sharp breath, poisoned by the cloth that continues to cover his nose and mouth. His head spins and he struggles to remain conscious, odd greens, reds and blues that do not exist in the area before him coloring his vision. Jack can barely make out a few figures, one clad in black and the other white and maybe some blue. Someone else from behind him roughly pulls on the binds and Jack falls down to the floor as they attach the chains from the wall behind him to his arms. The dark figure bends down and lifts Jack’s chin with a gloved hand. All Jack can see is the person’s pearly whites, curved upwards in a menacing smile. The figure leans in close, Jack’s unfocused eyes struggling to see the details of the figure. Jack swears that underneath what may be a hood the figure wears is some dark green hair. The figure whispers gravelly, warm breath ghosting Jack’s cheek, causing Jack to shudder in disgust._

_“Where is he?”_

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my dear readers, I end with a single, rather ominous decision:
> 
>  
> 
> ALIVE or DEAD
> 
>  
> 
> Choose wisely. Who know what I am referring to... ;)
> 
> *laughs evilly*
> 
> Happy Friday the 13th by the way :3
> 
> Seriously though, thanks so much for reading! I love to read all your comments, so feel free to leave one. And I'll see all you dudes, in the next one! Buh-bye!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, before my end ramble, I need your help, dear reader. Comment below whose option you think the youtubers should go with: telling the world and fans about Jack's disappearance, or investigating it themselves? Whatever gets the most votes, I will chose to write for the next chapter :)
> 
> This idea has been in my head for a good couple of months now, but I never found the time to write it out. I'll try to keep chapters this long. Idk, I like it a longer length to give the reader more to read and not hate me as much for my sporadic updates haha Well, this is the result! And mwhaha I have so many more ideas for the development of this fic, just you wait ;)
> 
> Anyways, who here is like Mark and just paces around and gets into weird positions when talking on the phone? I do that all the time haha 
> 
> Also, I couldn't help but put Wiishu in this story. She's so cute and nice. If you guys haven't checked out her channel, I would. She and Jack make a good couple. 
> 
> Whatcha think about that blood message tho? *wink*
> 
> Also, the reason why this fic takes place in the past is because, well, that's kinda when I started writing it. And it just sat there, for months, unfinished... Horrible, right? I gotta stop doing that haha
> 
> Sorry if anyone is out of character. I tried my best! >o<
> 
> Enough of my babbling, thank you so much for reading! I do hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to leave your vote for me to see, so I can update ASAP!


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